


The Splendor Of Silence

by Anica



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Rising (2007), Valhalla Rising
Genre: Captivity, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Forced Fighting, Hannigram 4ever!, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mention of Child Abuse, Mostly Mute, Nightmares, Oral Sex, References to Hannibal Rising, Scars, happy ending!, mention of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anica/pseuds/Anica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a love story about a man who could not speak and a man that didn't need him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KoolJack1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoolJack1/gifts).



> This is for and because of KoolJack1! I loved her story Humane and fell in love with the idea of Will and One-Eye. She was kind enough to share the two and even proofread it for me.

Will Graham chuckled as he took a stick from his pitbull mix and threw it down the path they had been walking on. He wiped the dog drool on his jacket and put his hands into his jackets. Winter was ending and the weather had started to warm, but keeping his hands out for too long still made them feel stiff and numb.

The stick was returned to him by one of his smaller terriers and Will took it, scratching her head with his free hand. “Ready to go back home, girl?”

He turned back towards the house, a good twenty minutes away, and threw the stick again. His dogs ran past him, and Will paused, when he counted only six. He turned and noticed his newest dog, Winston, pawing at something on the side of the road.

“Leave it, boy.” Will whistled to get his attention. He ‘tsk’ed but got nothing in response. He sighed, and jogged over to him, “Come on, buddy. Time to go home and watch Daddy have a drink, hmm? How does-”

Will stopped, gasping when he noticed a pair of boots, and then he was running. He mentally prepared himself for a dead body. It wouldn’t have been his first, and if Jack had his way, not his last.

In the mixture of old leaves and dirt was a man, a few years older than himself. He had no shirt, but wore a long trench coat and an old pair of jeans to keep the cold away. Will gasped again, fingers trembling as he they went to the man’s throat and the thick leather and metal collar around his neck.

His hand was snatched up before he could make contact with skin, and Will tried to jerk away, eyes flying to really take in the man’s face for the first time. It was scarred, left eye nothing but a mess of tissue. His right though, his right eye burned Will with intensity that left the young man’s heart racing.

“It’s ok,” Will heard himself say. “It’s going to be ok. I’m going to help.”

The man’s eye fluttered, and the hold on his wrist fell away.

“Stay with me,” Will leaned over the man, patting his cheek and pulling on his sleeve. “I need you stay with me, all right? I can’t carry you.”

He got the man’s arm around his shoulder and dragged him to his feet. He kept talking. It was just random nonsense but constant, as he tried to keep the man awake while they made their way back to his house. He got nothing in response but imagined the man was using the last of his strength not to pull Will to the ground with him.

Will got the passenger door opened, and practically shoved the man inside, groaning as the weight was finally taken off of his shoulder. He ran around to the back to grab one of the water bottles he kept there, a habit he picked up while growing up in the heat of the south. He got the man to take a few sips before he slumped in his seat and would not stir.

***

Once he got the man past the ER doors, he was helped by the staff. He went as far as they would let him, and when he couldn’t go any further, he sank into a chair. He fumbled for his phone and dialed Jack’s number.

“Will?” Agent Crawford’s voice mildly surprised. They had worked on one case together so far, and hadn’t thought he would be hearing from the man again. After being forced to kill Garret Jacob Hobbs, The Minnesota Strike, in front of his wife and daughter, Jack imagined he would need to resort to guilt and begging to keep getting his insight into the killer’s mind.

“Yea, Jack, I think I have a case for you,” Will said, licking his lips nervously. He gave Jack the name of the hospital and slumped in his seat.

No matter how this turned out now, he would feel indebted to Jack and would end up working for him for the foreseeable future.

Will thought of the look in the man’s one good eye, and the grip on his wrist, and felt a cold chill spread through him. It was terrifying, lonely and strangely empowering. None of those feelings were his own.

***

“He’s dehydrated, as well as hypothermic,” the doctor said, eyes fixed on the file before him. “Most of the scares are old and healed, but others range from a few weeks to a few months old. His bones have been broken and healed a few times over, especially the ones in his hand. Someone took some sort of care of him before….” the doctor trailed off, looking up at the agents. “I don’t know what this is but he was defiantly held captive somewhere.”

Will was stuck between pity for the young doctor that hasn’t experienced the worst the world had to offer and frustration that they couldn’t get someone more seasoned.

“Can we see him?”

“Yea, he should be up now. We’ve been pumping him full of fluids.”

***

The scarred man kept his eye on Will as the two men entered. He seemed to tense as Jack stepped closer, but it was just the smallest twitch of the muscles. Connected to an IV, and wearing nothing but a nightgown, the man on the bed still made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was tightly coiled energy, and anything could set him off.

Will cut in front of Jack purely on instinct, wanting to calm the older man, but his sudden movement only made him tense more.

“I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford and you already met Will Graham. We’re with the FBI. Can you tell us your name?”

Jack got nothing but silence in return.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

Still nothing.

“You remember me,” Will said with a bit of certainty and came closer to the bed. “It was my dog that found you. You’re heavier than you look.”

The scarred man’s eyebrow twitched and Will smiled. At least he knew the man could understand him. He dropped his eyes, unable to keep the intimate contact for long. His eyes went to the man’s hands and the small, thin scares there, the raw marks on the wrist and he frowned.

“They made you fight,” Will said, without meaning to, but now that he had, he was forced to look back up. The man’s eye wasn’t on him anymore, they had followed his gaze to his hands.

“Will?” Jack, got his attention, and Will glanced up, unsure how long the silence had lasted.

Will straightened, and moved towards the door with Jack right behind him.

“I don’t know what they made him fight for,” Will shook his head. “I just know he has been doing it for a very long time and they wouldn’t have just let him go. He isn’t going to talk. I don’t think he has been able to for a long time.”

“He got away, and probably left a bloody scene behind.” Jack nodded as he thought out loud. “You think there are more?”

“Yea, I think there are more,” Will rubbed his forehead. “I think he can help us, but …” Will looked at the door and took a deep breath. “…I don’t know if he will.”

“He didn’t even acknowledge me,” Jack placed a hand on his hip and seemed to have come to a conclusion. “I think he feels a connection to you. Do you think you can use him?”

“I’m going to try to help, Jack,” Will spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to ‘use’ anyone.” 

“How very social of you,” Jack said dryly.

“I found him about twenty minutes from my place, North East. I was with the dogs so maybe about a mile and a half,” Will sighed as he realized he had been over reacting. “He couldn’t have been walking long.”

“Or he got a ride from someone.” Jack pointed out.

“He didn’t,” Will shook his head. “He spent years locked up, he isn’t about to trust anyone.”

“All right, I’ll send someone to take a look,” Jack checked his watch. “Why don’t you call it a night? Do you need a ride?”

“I drove,” Will looked at the door and back at Jack. “I’ll go sit with him for a bit.”

***

Will sat in the chair by the bed, and watched the head roll towards him, the look he received was as intense as that first instant in the dirt. After a moment, he saw the hand tighten into a fist, the eyes flickered down and back up at him.

“You want to know how I knew they made you fight?” Will voiced the question on the other’s face. The shoulders relaxed and Will took that as confirmation. “I have this overwhelming amount of empathy. I can think like others think. I see something and rebuild the train of thought the person had when committing the act.”  
Will read the disbelief on his face as well as exhaustion.

“Will there be anyone looking for you?” Will asked.  
He wanted to get his phone but realized if the man couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak, he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Every muscle twitch, and facial tic spoke volumes to Will. They were very slight, almost nonexistent and he was almost sure the only reason he was picking up on them was because the scarred man wanted him to.  
Now, for instance, he watched the hands tighten and relax at his side. No, then. No one would be looking for him.

“Was there anyone left behind?”

The man turned his head away, shoulder stiffening.

“We’ll find them,” Will knew his word meant nothing to the man, but couldn’t help himself. “Get some rest, you’re safe here.”

When he didn’t move to leave, the man turned to his head to look at Will again. This time he gave nothing away, but slowly closed his eyes.

Will took in the long cuts, the short stubble on the man’s face, peppered with gray in the edges. The lines were hard, the cheekbones even sharper, and long hair that Will guessed must be past shoulder length in the very least, made the man seem older then he probably was.

He left the room a short while later, returned to his car, and slumped in his seat. He rubbed his face and groaned.

He couldn’t shut it off. He couldn’t turn away from this. Until he saw this through, Will would walk around with the weight of the collar around his throat, a constant tension on his shoulder, and fight to get every word out. The scarred man was a part of him now.

***

Will didn’t sleep well that night, and welcomed the morning sun with a cup of strong coffee, and a phone call to Jack while watching his dogs from the porch.

“They didn’t find anything on the road. I’m going to grab the team and you can show us exactly where you found him. Maybe there will be something for the dogs to pick up on.”

Will agreed to wait for him, and fought the urge to tell him to hurry. He wanted to get to the hospital.

***

When he neared the hospital room, Will heard a crash, and rushed through the door. He made it in time to watch the scarred man try to pull himself up to his feet.  
He was by his side in seconds, easing the man’s arm over his shoulders. He felt the other stiffen but hooked his hand around the waist and stood up slowly.

“Now isn’t the time to get shy,” Will offered with a grin. “Not after yesterday.”

He caught an amused twitch of the lip out of the corner of his eye. He took an educated guess and helped the man to the bathroom. A few moments later when he reemerged, he seemed steadier on his feet. Will stood by in case he was needed but he wasn’t.

“I took Jack to where you I found you,” Will told him, once they’re both settled, the scarred man on the bed and the agent in the chair beside it. “Any chance you know how long you were out there for?”

The man looked away and Will had learned to take that as a negative.

“No matter,” Will shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

The response he got is a tightening of the muscles and Will leaned closer in his chair. “They’ll find the bodies of the men that held you captive.”

The man turned his head towards Will and the intense look was once more on him. Instead of flinching away he did his best to look reassuring. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

For a moment it looked like he would smile, but he didn’t. Will reached over and grabbed the TV remote.

***

Will watched the man eat lunch with enthusiasm that one did not normally reserve for hospital food. The man was on the lean side, though not malnourished Will would guess. It was bad business to have a weak fighter. The food they served must have been a little more than what was needed to keep him strong.

“It’s going to be easy to impress you with my cooking if you like that shit.”

The man paused over his plate, a twitch of the eyebrow let Will know that he wanted to know when and why was he going to get a chance to taste some of his home cooking. Will was wondering the same thing. He would probably be discharged later today, and Will felt a need to keep him close.

The call from Jack saved him from actually answering. He stepped outside to take it.

“The dogs lost his scent. We got nothing from the woods but I think we may have another lead,” Jack said, and Will could hear the echo from the car’s speakers as the man drove. “There’s a kid the locals picked up yesterday. He said he was being held by some guys.”

“Why are you only hearing about this now?” Will asked, knowing that child abduction cases got the FBI’s attention fairly quickly.

“SVU was handling it. They thought the boy was part of a sex trafficking ring and didn’t want our assistance.” There was a bite to the other man’s voice. The pissing wars between the local cops and the FBI sometimes got in the way of what really mattered. “They had the kid talk to their local shrink before they believed him about the cage matches.”

“What would they need with a kid?” Will wondered out loud.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jack said. “Think they were raising him?”

“Maybe,” Will shrugged. “Sounds like the kid is talking. Maybe you should bring him here.”

“That’s the plan, though I want to talk to him first.”

***

Will hadn’t told the older man about the new development in the case. They spent most of their time in comfortable silence, that Will broke every once in a while. The scarred man had been a little unstable on his feet in the morning but by the afternoon, he started to walk around the room in what Will assumed was either an attempt to rebuild his strength, or simply because he could since he was no longer restrained.

The door opened and Jack walked in, followed by a young boy with blonde hair that hung in his eyes. The boy, not much older than ten, quickly sought out the scarred man, his eyes grew large and he lunged himself at him. Small fists pounded the man’s midsection but no move was made to stop him.

“You left me! You were too fast! I couldn’t follow you!” the boy raged, hitting him as hard he could. “You left! You left me!”

“Hey!” Jack made a grab for the boy’s shoulder to pull him back but the scarred man had his wrist twisted back in a painful angle before the agent could make contact and pulled the boy behind him with his free hand.

“He wasn’t going to hurt him,” Will told him softly, realizing he was holding the man’s wrist firmly in his own hand. This close, with the man being conscious, Will’s sense of danger rose. He steeled himself, staring the man down. “No one is going to hurt the boy.”

The scarred man let Jack go, who took a step back, and composed himself. Will’s hand remained in the other’s wrist for a moment more.

“You still shouldn’t have left me,” the boy whispered from his spot behind the man.

The scarred man gave the kid an unimpressed look and Will focused on the boy instead of trying to figure out what it meant.

“What’s your name?”

“Aaron.” The boy shrugged and came closer. “They called me boy, but it’s Aaron.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“Mr. M and Mr. E and Mr. K,” Aaron explained. “That’s all they ever called each other.”

“And what’s his name?” Will asked, with a head nod towards the scarred man.

“One-Eye,” the boy said and shrugged at the look of surprise on the scarred face. “What? You needed a name.” He turned back to Will. “He didn’t have a name so I gave him one.”

Will looked over at Jack, who shrugged. He hadn’t gotten more than that he did indeed know about the one eyed man. After that, the boy clammed up, refusing to say anything else until he was taken to see the older man.

“What did they want from you?” Will asked, a little hesitant, afraid of the answer he would receive.

“I took care of One-Eye,” Aaron said, leaning against the man in question who made no move the either encourage or discourage the behavior. “No one ever went near him. No one ever goes near the fighters unless they’re all tied up.”

“They think the fighters won’t hurt you,” was said. And if they do, they’ll replace you, Will doesn’t say. “How did you get messed up in this, Aaron?”

“They said my parents sold me,” the boy shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “But I don’t think that’s true. I know some of the boys were taken but others weren’t. I don’t remember what happened.”

“Maybe he could lead us to where they were kept,” Will said looking at Jack. “We can take them to where he was first picked up. Think you can help us, Aaron?”  
Aaron looked up at One-Eye, and then back with some uncertainty at Will. “He isn’t going to be in trouble, is he?”

“What did he do?”

“They made him kill them. Most of them,” Aaron’s voice was barely above a whisper. “They were never going to let him go.”

***

Will accompanied Jack and Aaron on their search. The boy was talkative and the agent wasn’t sure if all little boys were like that or if the boy hadn’t had anyone to talk to in a long time.

“Has he ever spoken?” Will asked, as they followed him through the streets he had taken once One-Eye had set them free.

“One-Eye?” Aaron asked, and when Will gave a hesitant nod, he mirrored it. “No one has ever heard him make a sound. Not even when he’s hurt.” 

“Is he a good fighter?” Will couldn’t help be a little curious.

“The best,” the boy beamed with pride. “He never lost.”

Aaron told him about the fights as they followed him. Before the fight the two owners would inspect the other’s fighter as well as drug test them. The fights were about human survival and not about steroid induced rage. Valuable fighters did not fight to the death, but if it happened, well, it was all a part of the game.

“They want the fights to last. They need the people to get their money’s worth,” Aaron grinned. “One-Eye would kill them as soon as they were close enough. Just snap their necks as if they were nothing! Mr. M, the boss, would go ballistic.”

Will sent Jack a worried look. The boy spoke of murder as if it was just entertainment, and Will wondered if he would ever be able to be a normal. Or, even close enough to fake it.

“They would beat him for it,” Aaron’s voice dropped, and was a little detached. “He didn’t care so they started to beat me. That’s when he stopped.” He pointed to a large building down the block. “It’s over there. That’s where they kept us.”

***

Jack called in his team and Aaron was watched by a local officer while Will walked the scene.

He took his time, waiting and watching for the perfect moment. Years of people avoiding him, not coming near him, no other company but a small boy that tends to ramble about things he cares nothing about, and it all ends in one moment. He frees himself with a piece of discarded metal he finds, breaking the weak link in his cuffs that he had been watching and hoping no one would notice, and breaks the neck of the first one of them that comes running at him.

The other two follow, ready to overpower him. It would have been much wiser for them to run away, but their mistake is his gain. He kills them without pausing, movements fluid and easy, like he had imagined it for years. He takes their clothes, unlocks the door behind which the boy was kept and makes a run for it. There is no one chasing him but he can’t stop. The sounds outside assault him, and he keeps going, looking for silence and freedom.

It had been calculated, but there really was no design there. No fear, no anger, no passion. Will only saw survival when he looked down at the dead men on the floor.  
It made One-Eye so much more dangerous than he had originally thought. If the room had been a bloody mess, Will would have understood. No one would have blamed him for turning on these men and ripping them apart. Instead he killed them with detached proficiency. 

But Will could also feel his want to survive, to live, his ability to still care when he paused to set the boy free. 

He doesn’t tell Jack about the lack of emotions he finds at the crime scene. They might think he’s too dangerous to be around and the last thing One-Eye needs now is a new prison. Instead he tells Jack and his team about a man who had not let himself be destroyed, who fought back, and won. 

***

They found coded notebooks and files that Jack’s team was fairly certain they could crack. Beverley returned to the hospital with Will, needing to get One-Eye’s finger prints to exclude his from the scene as well as trying to find out more about him.

Will explained this but the man was still hesitant when Agent Katz came forward. His eyes never left Will and he didn’t pay any attention to what they spoke about. She left after promising to call Will if she found out anything about their silent friend.

“We stopped and got you some clothes. I guessed your size,” Will shrugged as he looked over the broad shoulders of the tall man, and avoided eye contact. “They’re going to release you soon. You can stay with me until we get everything straightened out.”

He didn’t miss the look of confusion, and apprehension, but he had no answers for him. He could barely make it sound reasonable to himself. Jack hadn’t cared enough to question him and he was at a loss at what to say to the man in front of him, so he decided to say nothing.

“Hope you like dogs,” Will said in place of any explanation.

There was a tightening in the shoulders and Will bit his lip, really not wanting to know the reason behind it and yet, unable to stop his mind from supplying the answer. The bite marks on the forearms are almost nonexistent, but there, proof that he survived more than just the viciousness of men. Will hoped the older man knew the dogs were no more to blame than he is for the lives he took, but would understand if he doesn’t. 

***

The dogs swarmed but weren’t aggressive and, much to his relief, Will watched the tension slip away from his shoulders as he showed him around the house. He changed the sheets on the bed and made dinner, and when he noticed the man was no longer trailing him, he went looking.

He finds him in the bathroom, in front of a mirror, inspecting his wounded eye. Will wasn’t sure how long it had been gone, but he is almost positive this is the first time the man took the time to inspect it.

“We’ll get you an eye patch,” Will started off lightly. “Few years ago there was this pirate craze. Something to do with Jonny Depp, I think.”

The man doesn’t look amused and Will dropped his eyes. “Sorry, I… I was just trying …” Will shook his head. “You might not be able to tell, but I’m very socially awkward.”

Will hears the man breath hard through his nose but doesn’t look up, feeling stupid for trying to joke. The sound of drawers being open fills the room and a moment later One-Eye is standing too close, pressing scissors into his hand. 

“Are you sure?” Will asked, watching the man undo the pony tail. His father had taught him how to cut his own hair, so if he can tame his curls, the man’s straight strands shouldn’t be a problem. “Long hair is making a comeback.”

One-Eye sits on the closed toilet lid, and looks up with a look of what Will can guess is patience that one reserves for puppies and very young and especially silly children. Will can’t help smile, and pausing as he tries to figure out the color of the man’s eye. There is a tinge of red in the amber, and for a moment the scars fall  
away, and Will’s imagination fills in the missing eye.

The agent thinks he would have been quite handsome in a very exotic way if not for the years of abuse. He blinks and the scars are back, but Will no longer thinks they take away from the man. Just a reminder that he survived.

At least something survived.

“I’ll do my best,” Will promised, and let his hand run through the graying strands once before he starts to cut them away.

***

Will took the couch and gave his guest the bed.

Sleep doesn’t come easy. He revisits every look he shared with One-Eye, and questions his motives behind bringing him to his house.

He has no answers by the time he falls asleep.

He dreams that he’s running through the forest, chased, and knowing there is something worse than death waiting for him if he is caught.

Will’s feet got tangled in the sheets and he fell off the couch. He’s groggy and still half asleep when he felt himself lifted off the floor and placed back on the couch. 

The blanket is straightened out and left around his waist so he won’t become overheated.

Will thought he must be dreaming because when he reached out in the darkness, he only felt the wet nose of one of his dogs trying to get his attention, and after that he fell back asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between Will's nightmares, they get to know each other.

They ate breakfast and Will got ready for work. He gathered his things, zigzagging through the room, filled with nervous energy at the idea of leaving One-Eye alone. Will could not be sure that the other would still be there when he returned but didn’t think a crowded lecture hall was the ideal place for the man right now. Staying home would have been understandable but he didn’t want to crowd One-Eye either. 

“I don’t have a TV, and I’m guessing you haven’t had a chance to use a tablet, right?” Will winced. “Sorry, I’ll show you tonight. Grab a book,” Will gave a nod around the room but doesn’t dare ask if he knows how to read. “You can go for a walk. The dogs will follow you, just be careful. It’s easy to get turned around.”

One-Eye wandered around the room, glancing at the shelves and to Will’s surprise, picked up one of his college textbooks. It was from his human anatomy class. The one eyed man knew how to pull a body apart, but had always wanted to know how it came together. The picture on the cover caught his attention and he decided it was as good as anything else. The idea of a fiction held no appeal to him.

“Well, don’t have too much fun with that,” Will wrinkled his nose at his choice as the man stretched out on the couch, feet crossed at the ankle. “Food, anything you want, help yourself. I only have three lectures today so I’ll be home late in the afternoon.”

The man didn’t acknowledge anything he said, eyes moving on the page as if he was oblivious to the rest of the world.

***

Will returned, freezing in the doorway when he noticed One-Eye was in the same exact place he had left him.

“I barely read that thing the first time around,” Will muttered in a way of greeting but the man on the couch didn’t acknowledge him.

“I spoke to Jack today. He said Aaron is doing well,” Will said as he walked into the kitchen, to put the groceries away and wasn’t surprised when the other man finally set the book down and followed him. “They can’t get him to stop talk talking but otherwise he’s doing better than they expected.” Will noticed how the other’s mouth twitched, but tried to pretend he didn’t, though his own smile gave it away. “They’re looking for his family but we aren’t sure where he was taken from. He said it was somewhere green.”

One-Eye looked thoughtful and Will could feel his desire to want to help the boy, and frustration at not being able to. 

“We haven’t cracked the code on the notebooks but we got a hit off of the prints in the warehouse.” Will talked as took out the deli meat, laying them out and started making himself a sandwich. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so help yourself.”

He was given a pointed look as the man moved to start fixing his own sandwich and Will chuckled.

“Yea, alright, fingerprints. Mr. M is Marcus Barge. He’s wanted – was wanted, thanks – in a few countries for human trafficking. Mr. E was Erik Hogard, wanted for quite a few things in quite a few countries. Opportunist, really.” Will shrugged. “Did anything for a price. Mr. K was Kristoff Stanitiski wanted for murder in Poland but nothing more than dog fighting in the states.”

Will saw the lip curl in disgust and nodded in silent agreement.

“If we can decode the book, we might have a chance to bring this whole ring down,” Will told him softly.

He gets the doubtful quirk of the eyebrow, and can’t help smiling in return. He thinks it might be the wrong response but he no longer worries about offending the other man.

“You survived. You got away. The odds may not be in our favor but when are they ever?”

One-Eye only looked tired in response to his declaration. Will felt it in himself as well. Wanting to believe but no longer knowing how to.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, and Will pretends not to notice the other man trying to sneak bits of the meat to Winston. The pup deserved it.

***

His feet are freezing. It’s cold outside and Will has nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt on. He is confused until he feels the blanket settle tightly around his shoulders and a hand on his elbow, turning him around, guiding him back towards the house.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Will mumbled as pressure was applied to his shoulder. He realized they’re back inside and he was next to the couch.

He sat and the hand pushed him back, this time when he is covered, it’s up to his chin and around his sides. He tries to say thank you but isn’t sure if ever gets the words out.

***

“Jack said he is getting nowhere with the list,” Will told him a few days later. “He wants you and Aaron to take a look at it. Maybe you can make out some names.”

One-Eye looked up from a textbook he had been going over the last few days, and licked his lips.

“All you have to do is try,” Will assured him. There was still uncertainty and he moved closer, just a few inches before he stopped himself, working off instincts like he had been. “I’ll be there and so will Aaron.”

He goes back to reading as if the conversation never took place till Will gets everything ready and tells him it’s time to go.

***

The boy, Aaron, sat close to One-Eye, pointing to a few names and talking about fights that he had been a part of.

“The English Man had two fighters,” Aaron said, turning the page, trying to make sense of the random names and numbers. “They weren’t tied up. One-Eye was. They started the fight before I could get his cuffs off.” The boy glanced up at One-Eye and then back down. “I tried but I had to get out of the way.”

“What happened?” Jack asked, when Will can’t bring himself to do it.

One-Eye gave the boy a disapproving look that went unnoticed by the child, who was only focused on the book. “He killed them. Ripped the throat out of one of them with his teeth. There was a lot of blood.”

“I thought there were rules,” Will said, and shoved his hands into his pockets so the others wouldn’t see them clenched.

“Well, yea,” Aaron shrugged. “But Mr. M said that keeping them was only worth it if you break them every once in a while. Like when one of the more valued fighter gets killed, and everyone goes crazy because they weren’t expecting it. He said it made it more interesting.”

“What do you think?” Will asked, and ignored the glare One-Eye shot him.

“I think they shouldn’t have done that.” Aaron looked up, frowning. “But I think they were scared of One-Eye. They knew they wouldn’t win. It doesn’t make it right but none of this was right I guess, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Another half an hour went by and Aaron rubbed his eyes. He had looked at every page of every notebook a few times, and even though he recognized some of the code names, he wasn’t sure where most of the fights had taken place. Sometimes he would get a glimpse of the local newspaper or a fast-food joint but after the first few times, he had learned not to ask too many questions and to anticipate what was wanted from him. Mr. M would talk about the business sometimes, almost fatherly, but he never went into specifics or personal details of the other owners.

“I bet we have most of these guys on our radar,” Jack growled in frustration. “If we can just get one of them, we can get them to flip on the rest.”

One-Eye’s sudden movement made everyone freeze. He grabbed Jack’s pen and a stack of papers that had been left on the conference room table. He felt all the attention on him, and it made him hesitate as he put the pen to the paper. His first few strokes were tense and awkward. He hadn’t held any sort of writing instrument in almost two decades and it showed at first.

He stopped, focused and started again, letting it come to him like it had when he was a young boy. Like most of his life before he was forced to fight, it came to him in flashes. A room with too many children and a worn out notebook that he tried to keep hidden, though he doesn’t remember why, filled with pictures of a little girl whose name is always just out of reach. Soon the picture was complete, not as good as it had once been but every detail was in place. 

“That’s the English Man,” Aaron added helpfully.

“I think we can use this,” Jack said, almost smiling. “After this, if you need a job, I think we can work something out.”

One-Eye wasn’t paying attention. He had already started to work on the next face that was burnt into his memory. It seemed cruel how he could recall the faces of the men he had killed, of the owners that always stood just out of reach, but he could remember almost nothing of his life before. One by one he brought them to life and Aaron gave them a name. With each one, his hand grew steadier and the details greater.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Will muttered, smiling and for a moment he thought he saw the corners on the other man’s face twitch though the hand never stopped moving.

A dozen pictures later they broke for lunch, One-Eye flexed his hand to get the cramps out.

“I liked your hair long,” Aaron said around a mouthful of cheeseburger.

One-Eye’s only response was to steal one of the fries from him even though he had plenty of his own.

***

Will was choking. There was leather and steel around his throat. It was solid and heavy, and the more he fought it, the more it choked him. There was someone, maybe more than one, just out view that would tug on it, making him fly as if he was marionette.

He scratched at his throat, trying to free himself, trying to catch his breath, but hands pulled his arms away, forced them over his head.

“No, no,” Will whimpered. “No, please. I can’t! I can’t breathe!”

Will felt soft, dry heat against his lips, and that was enough to bring him out of his nightmare. One-Eye was straddling his hips, holding his hands above his head, and his face hovered inches above him.

“I’m … I’m awake now,” Will’s voice shook as he spoke but he had hoped the other would not notice, or pretend not to.

The hands came away from his wrist, and touched his neck, which caused Will to wince. The gentle pressure stings and he realized he must have scratched himself bloody during the dream.

“I’m okay,” Will whispered, covering One-Eye’s hand with his own. “Thanks for waking me.”

In the near darkness, Will could still make out the worry. The man doesn’t move, working his thumb over the scratched skin. He takes Will’s hand and brings it to his own throat. He uncurls the fingers and lets the agent rest his hand just above the collarbone.

There is no collar there, he tries to say, there is no need for nightmares.

Will’s hand traveled higher, just barely touching the cheek before thinking better of such actions and letting it drop away.

“I know,” Will told him quietly, still whispering even though there was no one they had to be quite for. “You don’t sleep much, do you?”

There’s a soft huff from the man as he gets up. Like the nights before, the blanket is fixed before the man leaves him.

Will didn’t fall right back to sleep this time. He thought about the man’s lips brushing against his and wondered if it was the mute’s only choice in waking him or had he imagined it along with the leather collar.

He wondered if it’s possible to be something else completely and what would it mean if that was what he actually wanted.

***

Will could smell something burning before he opened the door. He rushed towards the kitchen, past the barking dogs, into the smoke filled room to see his house guest frowning at what must have once been a chicken at some point.

“You’re supposed to let it air out,” Will opened the back door and coughed into his fist, as the dogs rushed past him into the clean, fresh air of the night. “And not burn it.”

One-Eye turned, but wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Can you come out here till the smoke clears?”

The tall man walked over, leaning against the doorframe, looking towards the setting sun, the dogs, the trees and anywhere that wasn’t Will.

“I’m not upset,” Will reassured him, with a small, amused smile. “This happens to everyone when they start cooking. Happened to me more than most, probably. I appreciate the effort and I won’t take it as an insult against my cooking, alright?”

There was just the smallest snort and the man actually looked like he was fighting a smile. It made Will laugh.

“All right, well then how about we get some burgers? It’ll be neither of our faults if it’s horrible.” Will leaned towards him and nudged his shoulder just a bit as he walked back inside. “Then again, if you eat my cooking, you’ll probably eat anything.”

Will’s good humor left him when watched One-Eye wince while putting on the coat he got for him.

“I need to know if you’re hurt,” Will told him and was only met with stony silence. It was unlike the one he had grown used to. It was all stubbornness and pride, and narrowed eyes that demanded the matter be dropped immediately. “I get it. You’re tough. I swear that if it’s a paper cut, I’ll tell you to man up myself, but you have to let me see how it first.”

There was another moment of hesitation, and then One-Eye lifted his hand, showing Will his burnt palm. The agent had enough childhood mishaps to recognize a second degree when he saw one.

“This, you should have shown me as soon as I came in,” Will couldn’t help but sound irritated as he led the way back into the kitchen, resisting the urge to drag the older man along as if he were a child and filled a bowl with cold tap water. “Put your hand in there. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Will turned and left before he could make sure his instructions were being followed. If the man wanted to be stubborn, there was little he could do about it. He took his time getting the kit, needing a moment to calm down before returning to the kitchen.

“I know you’re used to things being a certain way,” Will told him, his tone was in contrast to the way he gently dried off One-Eye’s hand and started spreading the cream over the burned skin. “But …” Will frowned, glaring at the man’s hand, not knowing where he was going with this. “Fuck, I just don’t want to see you hurt, do you understand?”

Will’s face was cupped and chin tilted back till they had reestablished eye contact. The maroon eye softened, held his gaze, and between that and the gentle hand on his cheek, Will wondered if he was still asleep.

***

Before Will could leave for the day, his cellphone rang.

“I need you in the office today” Jack told him. “Bring One-Eye.”

“That’s not his-” Will stopped. “What happened?”

“We got a hit off one of his drawings. It’s not like your buddy can testify, or like it’s going to be enough, so we need a plan. I’m expecting you both in an hour.”

***

Will had a bad feeling about what was going to happen. The kind of dread that sat in the pit of your stomach, the kind that tightens in your chest and doesn’t let you breathe. The fact that Aaron was there, did not help matters.

“I’m guessing you already have a plan,” Will said, pushing his chair back and sitting hard.

“We need to catch them in the act,” Jack told him, not in the mood to debate it. “Going undercover will be our best chance not to only take down another one of these guys, but to get the people that attended! Think of the leads we can get, think of the lives we can save!”

“All at the expense of his psyche?” Will rose to his feet, standing much too close in the older agent’s space for his own liking. “You can’t ask him to go back in!”

“We’ll be with him! You’ll be with him!”

“Fuck, Jack, this is too much even for you.”

Jack moved closer, but stopped when One-Eye’s hand pressed against his chest, as the man quickly put himself between the two.

“Great, now he’s your guard dog too?”

Will slipped past One-Eye, who had not anticipated the younger man to do something as foolish as protect his honor, and popped Jack in the mouth. It was only hard enough to break the skin and cause the man to stagger back, before he could straighten up and collecting himself.

“That was out of line,” Will growled, ready to take whatever repercussion came with assault on a superior, and wondered if the penalty for two blows was the same as for one.

“It was,” Jack nodded, licking the blood off his lip. If there were others present, he would have been forced to take action, but without anyone else to act as witness except a mute and a child, he was willing to let it go. Will was worth more to him than a half assed punch, that he was sure could have been worse. He made sure to look at One-Eye as he apologized. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that this is the only way to do this. I don’t know if you care about the others that are out there, but I do and they probably have someone waiting for them too. Are you going to help us?”

One-Eye responded as he always did, without words, agreeing to take part in the procedure by taking his seat.

“He’s on board. I want you with us, Will.” Jack said. “He trusts you and you can get into their minds. I want you two to do this together.”

Will sighed, and sat down.

“Am I going undercover?” Aaron asked, giving them a wider grin than anyone in the room had ever seen from him.

***

It was mostly Aaron that had been able to help set the plan in motion. He might not have known names, or locations but he knew how to set up a fight. He knew how the meeting was supposed to go, what kind of arena it was supposed to be held at and what to avoid saying and doing. He supplied them with all the information they would need, with obvious reluctance, after he was told he could not take part in the investigation.

Will knew this had to happen, understood why, but imagining One-Eye playing along made his stomach turn. He didn’t eat lunch and only picked at his dinner, feeling the concerned gaze of his new friend on him.

“I’m fine,” Will muttered. “You really don’t have to go through with any of this. Jack is a bully, I shouldn’t have taken you with me.”

One-Eye pushed his shoulders back, sitting up straight, and Will snorted.

“Yea, I know you can handle it, but you’ve been through … you’ve been through hell. We have no right to ask you to go back.”

Long fingers and a broad palm cover his hand and Will nodded, with a defeated sigh. “Alright, fine. We’ll do it together.”

***

Will is running. His feet and lungs are killing him as he pushes himself further. He’s barefoot on the forest but he has no time to worry about that. They’re coming. They’re coming and they are many and they will never ever stop.

Something slams into his back, and he goes flying. A solid weight covers his back.

It’s enough to wake him up. The weight shifts and Will feels himself being turned on to his back.

“I bet you played football,” Will muttered, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath, while hands checked his sides for injuries.

He was being pulled up before he is really ready, but his protests fell on deaf ears as the now familiar arm tightened around his middle, and he was swept up.

“You got to be joking,” Will squirmed. “Put me down. I can walk.”

He was not a child, and felt ridiculous being carried by the older man even if his feet did still hurt. He twisted and fidgeted, trying to get One-Eye to set him down but only succeeded in getting himself tossed over the man’s shoulder.

“This is not better,” Will growled, smacking the man’s back, and receiving a smack on his ass in return. “I hate you,” he muttered, blushing slightly, but settled down, for the rest of the walk to the house.

Will was surprised when he was set down on the bed that he had given to One-Eye to use. The man disappeared for a moment and came back with a wet cloth to clean the dirt and blood off his feet. When Will protested, a firm hand pushed him back, till he was flat on the bed. When he was finished, One-Eye crawled into bed next to him. The firm hand returned, keeping Will in place with the least amount of pressure.

“You think you can keep them away?” Will whispered. “They’re nightmares. They always find me.”

There was a tug on his shirt and he was pulled closer. With a defeated sigh, Will complied, moving till he was pressed up against the older man.

The agent fell asleep to the feeling of long fingers playing with his curls.

***

The next night, the night after and the night after that, One-Eye would grab Will’s wrist and pull him onto the full sized bed. They don’t talk – Will didn’t talk about it - but he would rest his head on the other’s shoulder, eyes scanning the other’s neck to make sure no leather hung there, and would fall asleep to the feeling of his hair being stroked.

One-Eye was always still awake when he fell asleep and already up when Will awoke. There had been no nightmares, not when the source of them was laying safe against his cheek, his heart beating strong within his chest.

As Will woke up on the morning of the fourth day, he was surprised to find the other man asleep. He tilted his head up just a fraction, never passing up the opportunity to study One-Eye. The scars, the dip of the lips, high cheekbones and the deep set of the eyes. All very manly and strangely beautiful.

There was something between the two of them, solid and good, but neither of them knew what it was.

Will was scared to do anything but to follow One-Eye’s lead, not wanting to push himself on the man and take advantage.

One-Eye knew he felt protective of the younger man, that he liked the feeling of their skin together and wanted to feel it against his lips as he has seen lovers do when they came to watch him fight, when they would get excited by the blood and brutality. Or, like the lovers on Will’s iPad, who seemed to want a connection much deeper and more passionate than just the act itself. Either way, he had seen what he looked like, and could not imagine Will offering more than he already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this doesn't make sense, maybe chapter 3 will clear it up :/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys are kissed, bad guys are put away, and answers are found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to TayoAnn for doing the beta-ing and letting me ramble on a bad day. Thank you!

It wasn’t often that Jack called with good news. 

But this, this was good news.

Will felt some weight shift off his shoulders though it might have been slightly bittersweet.

Aaron clung to One-Eye, face buried in the man’s waist, arms tightly around him as he cried.

“I don’t want to go with them, I want to stay with you, please? I don’t know them. I don’t remember them,” the boy’s voice shook and the arms tightened. “Please? Please let me stay with you.”

“He’s cold,” Jack observed quietly from his spot next to Will.

One-Eye stood perfectly still, face unchanging, as the boy clung to him. Will thought he never seen such tenderness, longing, and sorrow on the man’s face as he raised his hand and laid it on the boy’s head.

Will saw, through the glass walls, a blonde couple being lead inside. Jack stepped away and spoke to them, the boy finally let go of One-Eye, and went to greet them. The woman separated from the small group and hugged One-Eye tightly.

“Thank you,” she said before slipping away, and left a confused scarred man behind.

They took their son and left. Jack tried to get back down to business the moment they were gone. He wanted to run over the meeting that was scheduled in a few days.

“Tomorrow, Jack,” Will said, firmly, as he watched the tension return to One-Eye’s shoulders. “We’ll be here tomorrow, and we can do it all day if you want, but not right now.”

“Fine, get out of here,” Jack gathered his things, not bothering to look anything but annoyed.

Will lead the silent man out, but was forced to pause when One-Eye stopped. It was in front of a large, old atlas that hung on the wall.

They stood side by side, looking at the drawing before Will tapped his finger against it. “That’s Louisiana. That’s where I was born. My father worked on boats, and we traveled a lot, but never left the state. Not 'til I went to college.” He taped the map again, this time higher and to the east. “Ireland. That’s where Aaron is going. What about you? Do you remember where you’re from?”

The man took a step closer to the map, hand falling over Europe as he leaned closer still, his eye focused on one spot. The man squared his shoulders and pulled away, and tapped the place with his finger.

“Lithuania?” Will asked, unable to hide a smile. “That’s where you were born?”

The man didn’t take his gaze off the spot and Will patted his back. “Stay right here, I need to go check in with someone. Alright?”

The fact that he got no answer was fine with Will. He almost ran to the lab, and smiled when he saw Beverly Katz in her white lab coat.

“I need a favor,” Will told her, unable to stop grinning.

“Hello, and I’m not babysitting,” She told him without taking her eyes off what she was doing. “No matter how much I love the strong, silent types.”

“Sorry and no,” Will shook his head. “I need you to check the missing persons reports in Lithuania. Maybe something between fifteen and twenty-five years ago?”

“You know that is so not my department,” Beverly said, with a heavy sigh because she already knew she would do it.

“Yes, but you’re the best,” Will gave her his most charming, practiced grin. She snorted in response.

“Flattery will only get you so far.”

“What will get me the rest of the way?”

“So tempting,” she sighed and nodded towards the door. “Go, I’ll call you if I find something.”

“When,” Will yelled over his shoulder. “When you find something.”

***

Will let the dogs out into the back, and had every intention of following, but One-Eye slammed the door shut with a broad hand and pushed him back against it. He blinked and took a shallow breath as the taller man hovered a few inches away from him.

There were so many reasons he should slip away, push the other man back, and stop this.

Will closed his eyes, and relaxed against the door. He was always doings what he should, and now he was going to do what he wanted and he hoped One-Eye would do the same.

“I wish I knew your name,” Will whispered, and then he was being kissed, hard, and needy, with more passion than he had ever experienced before.

He fisted his hands in the others shirt and pulled him even closer, making the other man lean into him. One-Eye’s hands traveled from his shoulders, up into his hair and then down his waist. Will never realized how much he enjoyed being held firmly by strong hands until they dug into his skin. One-Eye’s breath came out ragged, as he ground his hips against the front of Will’s pants.

“Bed,” Will told him, as he tried to catch his breath, his head rolled back and his neck attacked with the same abandon as his mouth had been. He tried to move away but was slammed back against the door, harsh but not threatening. Will thought maybe he should be afraid; the man probably had been forced to kill hundreds over the past decades, and in some ways might be more animal than man. But there was no menace in the hold One-Eye had on him. What there was, was a hunger that forced Will on to his knees and to scramble to get the other’s zipper opened.

He hadn’t had much practice but his enthusiasm more than made up for it when he put the tip of the man’s cock into his mouth, and let his tongue circle the sensitive skin. Though, in all honesty, the older man didn’t need much more than a loving touch. Will worked the base with his hand until he could take more into his mouth. With the short groans mixed in with the whimpers coming from above him, this was the most vocal he ever heard the man being.

The vocalizations were deep and silky and Will imagined what they would sound around his name. It didn't take One-Eye long to finish with a shudder and slip to the floor in front of him.

One-Eye offered a soft smile and tender kisses as he pulled Will in close. No rush, no desperation, and still they didn’t make it to the bed.

***

“I’m sorry,” Will said, holding out the collar made out of leather and metal much like the one he had found One-Eye in all those weeks ago. “This is so wrong. I’m sorry.”

One-Eye cupped his face and forced him to look up at him. He lowered his forehead against the agent’s and then dropped to his knees.

“Stop.” Will shook his head. “It’s not game. How can you be okay with this?”

In response his hand was taken and laid against One-Eye’s neck. He offered it up willingly, letting the agent run his fingers over it and into his hair. He closed his eyes, and leaned into the touch.

“But it’s not going to be just me,” Will argued, because he could hear the words the other could not speak. “And I’m … I’m not going to be me.”

There was the briefest quirk of the lips before One-Eye turned his face into Will’s palm and kissed the skin there.

“Yeah, yeah,” Will snorted. “You can kick my ass. I’m well aware of that.”

One-Eye gave a pointed look at the collar in his free hand and Will sighed.

“You’re not this,” Will told him as he slipped it on and closed it. “You’re not mine, either. You’re so much more than all of this. No one should still be able to function if they had to go through what you went through. This isn’t fair.”

One-Eye sat back on his heels, fingers playing with the collar, no longer there with Will. The smell and the feel taking him back. Will touched his shoulder and he rose, fighting the need to run, to hurt Will and escape.

Instead he held out his wrists, letting himself be cuffed. For Will, he would find the strength to do what was asked of him but only for Will, who looked at him as if he wasn’t damaged or scarred. For Will, who was not nervous to be in a room alone with him, or gave him uneasy looks like Jack and his team. For Will, who slept peacefully next to him even though he knew what he had done.

For Will, who heard him speak when he spoke no words.

***

Malcolm Varge had been a mean little boy who grew up to be a cruel man. He loved to inflict pain on others and liked watching it be done. The longer, the better. There was something so powerful in watching the life finally go out of someone’s eyes but not as powerful as hearing them pray for it, beg for it.

Will could see it in the way he had a man dragged in by long rods that connected to his collar on both sides. A small boy, younger than Aaron, followed close behind them.

“Who the fuck are you?” Varge asked, grinning as he looked Will up and down. “And how the fuck did you take the golden ticket away from Mr. M?”

“I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse,” Will told him through gritted teeth. “Do you want to get some tea and have a chat or do you want to do this?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Varge, laughed holding up his hands. “Calm down, there is no reason why we can’t be social, is there? I mean we’re both going to make money at the end of the day. Isn’t that what it’s about?”

“It’s about limits,” Will told him, his voice dropped a few degrees as he gave the man a cold look . “How far are you willing to go?”

“All the way,” Varge shrugged and nudged the man on the ground with his foot, who responded with a snarl and fought against his restraints till pressure was applied to the collar by the men with the rods. “He is probably worth more dead anyway.”

“That doesn’t work for me,” Will shook his head, playing the role of a new owner that wanted to get as much use as possible out of his new piece of property. “I need him alive.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Trust me, you’ll regret it if the fight goes any other way,” Will warned him, seeing the title the man was imagining for himself if his fighter killed the man that never lost a battle. He was down playing his own fighter, hoping Will wouldn’t notice the threat. “Is he clean?”

“I’m not here to waste your time.” Varge snapped his fingers and the two men let the chained man rise to his knees. “Are you going to do it or do you want the boy to?”

Will snorted and withdrew a sealed syringe, knowing if he did it himself, it would be suspicious. It wasn’t the owner’s job. He threw it to the boy who quickly kneeled by the man, cleaned the area as best he could before taking blood with what seemed like practiced ease.

“How the hell do you keep him so still?” Varge asked, coming closer to One-Eye, who kneeled at the end of his very own metal rod, held by a field agent sent in as backup. “Is he sedated?”

“No,” Will snorted, making his way back. “We had a long talk about behavior. He knows who his master is.”

“Yeah?” Varge smiled and stood over the kneeling man, gripping his chin hard and forcing his face up. “Must be good for the days between the fights even if he is ugly as sin.”

Varge worked his thumb in between One-Eye’s lips, and screamed when the powerful teeth closed around it. There was flash of light behind closed eyes and One-Eye fell to the ground. He bared his teeth from his position on the ground and snapped his jaw at Will.

“What the hell?” Varge brought his bloody thumb to his mouth. “I thought you said you have him trained.”

“No, I said he knows who his master is,” Will said, standing between him and One-Eye, and felt bile rise in his throat at the thought that he had just struck the older man but turned the disgust on Varge. “Next time, I’ll let him bite it off.”

“I was just checking to make sure his teeth weren’t filed into points!” Varge said weakly. “What happened to your boy?”

“He kept getting under foot. I guess I’m going to need another.” Will shrugged, pocketing the blood sample the boy had brought him and returned to the bounded man on the floor to finish checking him over from a safe distance. “Have your boy take his blood. Just tell him to be careful.”

“You’re cold,” Verge chuckled. He called the boy over and instructed him take blood from One-Eye.

“Wait,” Will barked at the kid, making him freeze. “Come here. I want to see it.”

The boy came over and handed him the syringe. Will made sure the packaging wasn’t tampered with before nodding and handing it back. He wanted to give the boy a reassuring smile, a wink, and whisper that it would all be over soon but didn’t dare risk it. The boy was safe enough for now.

“Not very trusting, are you?” Verge snorted, his eyes returning the man on the ground. The boy looked frightened, his hands shook but he did as he was told, withdrawing blood from One-Eye with the same care he had shown his own fighter. “You might have gotten a rotten deal. How many more years do you think this one has?”

“Let me worry about that,” Will said, with a head nod towards the agent that had been sent in as his muscle. He gripped the stick that had been connected to the collar and tugged, letting One-Eye know it was okay to rise. “I’ll see you at the fight if everything checks out.”

***

“I’m so sorry,” Will whispered in the van once they put distance between themselves and the warehouse.

The agent drove, keeping an eye out to make sure they weren’t being followed, while Will moved into the back to sit with One-Eye. He undid the cuffs and took off the collar, and apologized again.

One-Eye touched the spot where he had been hit, wincing a little before reaching for Will’s hand and forcing his fingers into a fist. He pulled the hand forward, tapping Will’s shoulder.

“Really? You’re going to teach me how to throw a punch now?”

***

The night before the raid, Will woke to the feeling of a hand running along his back. He didn’t move, enjoying the touch, but slowly it changed. Instead of the broad hand on his back, there was a finger drawing patterns.

Will concentrated on the touch, slowly realizing that it was not just patterns but symbols. 

“What are you doing?” Will mumbled sleepily into the pillow.

The hand stilled then resumed for a moment before stopping completely. One-Eye covered Will with his body, and laid a kiss on the back of his neck.

Will was almost asleep when he remembered a book they had recovered from the warehouse where One-Eye and Aaron had been kept. It had been on pagan tradition, and the chapter on markings had been dog-eared. 

One-Eye had been drawing symbols onto his back, ones that had once been drawn on him, hoping that they would protect the young agent the following day.

***

The raid was supposed to happen before either of the fighters were released. Once everyone had arrived, and the front doors were locked, FBI was going to crash the fight before it even had a chance to start. That had been the plan.

Will felt unease as he watched the other fighter struggle against the ropes that bonded him to the cage. While One-Eye remained silent and still on his side, his opponent trashed and growled, and pulled till the agent could see blood on the other’s wrists.

At the start of the fight, each fighter would be cut free at the same time. There would be back up in case the fighter tried to make a grab for the knife, and though seldom, the kid who took care of him, but usually they were far more concerned about their back being exposed to worry about anything other than defending themselves.

Will had been trying to limit the eye contact he made with the older man in front of the others, though he felt that eye follow his face. One-Eye watched him, read his body language, to get a sense of what was happening around him without the others being aware. It was when Will’s eyes went wide, that One-Eye turned as far as his bounds would let him, and kicked the advancing fighter in the chest without the need for the agent to yell out a warning.

“What the hell is going on?” Will roared at Varge, as he ran to the cage, his own knife in hand even though it was not his job to cut him free. “Get him back!”

“What are you doing, man? It’s too late!” The other only laughed. “Guess the ropes weren’t tied properly. Just can’t get good help these days.”

“What do we do?” The agent that had been sent in as his backup asked, as Will started to cut away at the ropes.

“Get Jack in here now!” Will growled, too focused on the task at hand to notice the other fighter get back onto his feet and make a grab for him through the cage. One-Eye shoved his shoulder into the man’s chest, knocking him back, before he could make contact. The man hissed but didn’t fall. He made another grab for Will, or more likely the knife, but it was in that very moment that the ropes fell away.

One-Eye grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground. The fighter flailed and scratched at the hand that held him but could do nothing to loosen the grip around his throat. The fact that the man attacked him while he was unable to defend himself was understandable, they did what they had to survive, but touching Will was unforgivable.

“No,” Will whispered and reached through the bars to grab his other hand. “Don’t.”

One-Eye glanced at him, and saw no fear or anger there, no judgment, or even doubt. Only understanding. He lowered the man down on the ground, the same time that the doors were busted down and men in riot gear stormed the room.

*** 

“Get ready to love me,” Beverly announced as she came into his classroom while students were filing out. Some paused in the doorway, pretending to be checking their phones or notes, but Will ignored them.

“What makes you think I don’t already?” He asked, gathering the essays the students had dropped off.

“If this is love than you really need to work on your social skills,” She beamed up at him as she took a seat on his desk.

“This loving you thing,” Will raised a brow, “Is that supposed to start happening now?”

She only responded with an arrogant grin and held up a file. “Will Graham, meet One-Eye Doe.”

It took a few seconds before could make himself take the folder. He opened it and found himself staring at a black and white photo of a teenager. Handsome, with smooth skin, thin lips and short hair.

“His name is Hannibal Lecter,” she snorted. “It’s actually Count Hannibal Lecter. He is, like, the eighth or something. His parents and sister died when he was a kid and he was raised in an orphanage. They said he was mute back then too. Since after the deaths, not since he was born. They were killed apparently.”

“What happened?” Will asked, eyes still on the picture of the young man, a boy really.

“No clue,” she shook her head. “All I know is the sister’s body was never recovered. They had him filed as a runaway. His uncle showed up a few months after that, claiming he didn’t know what had happened. He had been estranged with the father, and started throwing a fit but by then it was too late. The cops looked into it for a few days just to shut him up but there were no leads.”

“Sixteen?” Will’s breath caught in his throat. “He was just a kid.”

“Yeah, people are fucking monsters.” She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “There is a bit of good news. His uncle is still alive.”

***

Will stood silently at the airport, fighting to the urge to throw himself at One-Eye – at Hannibal – the way Aaron had or to follow him on to the plane. Hannibal needed to be with family. He needed to make a connection, to have a life.

All Will could offer him is a house in middle of nowhere and reminders of what he had gone through.

“You can write if you want,” he muttered. A hand squeezed his shoulder but he refused to look up. “And if you ever get sick of France …” Will shrugged.

A thumb brushed his lower lip and he let out a shaky breath. This was harder than he had imagined. A little over a month ago he was perfectly happy living on his own, fully aware that his life was mostly going to be split evenly between psychopaths and his dogs.

Now there was scarred man, who lost everything, including twenty years of his life, teaching him that there could be so much more. And how quickly it could be taken away.

He wanted just a few more days. He would settle for one more night.

“Maybe you’ll learn to cook, without burning my house down.”

He looked up when he heard a chuckle. Those were rare. A large hand cupped his face and didn’t let him pull away. He felt lips against his cheek and they moved, but not to kiss. They were forming words, but Will couldn’t make them out.

“What?” Will could only whisper.

He got a kiss in reply and then he was gone. Hannibal walked through the security check and never looked back at Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Gosh, I wonder what's going to happen ...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There really is no reason for them be apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again. Kooljack1 is amazing and the reason for all of this. 
> 
> TayoAnn was wonderful enough to edit, and for that deserves far more than 3 cheers!

The night after Hannibal left, Will found every reason to avoid going home until there weren’t any left. Even his dogs’ enthusiastic greetings and wagging tails did absolutely nothing to cheer him up. He led them outside, waited for them to finish and when they begged to be petted by butting his hand with their heads, all he had left for them was an empty touch with nothing behind it.

The bed looked so large and empty that he was tempted to sleep on the couch, but that held its own share of painful memories. The nightmares Hannibal had soothed away were free to find Will again. He would no longer be able to reach over and find solace in the fact that the man, though damaged, was whole and close and … his.

Will berated himself. Hannibal was not some stray whom he had taken in from the side of the road. He was a man who was lost and deserved his freedom. He deserved to be with family. Will was being selfish in his desire to keep him close.

When he went to bed, Will found a picture on his pillow. Will's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at a picture of himself, obviously drawn with great care and beautifully rendered. He would never have see this image in a mirror, though. This depicted him asleep in bed, sheets tangled at his waist. His hair was wild and his face displayed his usual state of scruffiness. But somehow, he was beautiful. And even though Will knew he was not horrible to look at, the beauty here was far too much to be him. It was simply how Hannibal saw him. It was why the picture had been left for him; so Will would know what the other man thought of him, because maybe he didn’t think his touch had said it enough, and he had no words to explain it. 

For a moment all Will wanted to do was tear the picture to pieces. He didn’t need a picture of himself. He wanted the other man here. Will would have settled for seeing him on paper, though. He had nothing of the older man. Not a shirt that smelled like him, no memento that he was once here, no solid proof of the time they had together. All he had now was this picture of himself. He had a picture and the empathy that allowed him to imagine what the other felt as he sat in the rising sun and drew it.

***

On the plane, the small girl in the seat in front of him burst into tears as Hannibal passed her. The mother did her best to soothe her, telling the girl it was just a mask. She spoke in soft, hushed tones in an attempt not to offend the man behind her. Hannibal made a mental note to get an eye patch as soon as humanly possible. Will had never seemed to mind so he hadn’t bothered trying to cover it up.

Really, the girl’s crying was just a distant thing, though. His thoughts were with Will. Hannibal could smell Will on his shirt. He closed his eyes and saw the young man, in his boxers and crazy curls, head in Hannibal's lap as Will read through the stack of papers he had brought home from work. Will chewed on the end of a pen, shaking his head and muttering about his students. Hannibal ran his fingers along Will's temples to soothe away the stress and worry lines that were forming. The memory made Hannibal smile, but a sudden stab of pain caught him off guard. He had known he would miss the younger man, but the depth of the feeling surprised him.

***

Hannibal recognized the man who was his uncle, and the woman who was his aunt by marriage from the picture Agent Katz sent home with Will. He stiffened when they tried to hug him, and pulled away when they tried to touch his face. He saw disappointment on their faces as they realized that he wasn't the nephew they had been looking for. His uncle, especially, had been looking for that eight-year-old boy from the pictures his sister-in-law had sent him without her husband’s knowledge. Instead, a man stood before the pair; clearly dangerous, broken, and empty. If only they had found Hannibal sooner…

***

Hannibal felt frustrated when they talked to him as if he were a slow child. He was mute, had taken far too many blows to the head, but he was not stupid. He missed the way Will could hear his words. 

He lost his temper once, throwing a plate across the room and scaring his aunt. He had repeatedly made it clear that he was not hungry, and then found a plate being set in front of him as if he was too stupid to know what hunger was.

He stalked out into the garden where his uncle cornered him and tried to scold him. Hannibal had thought he was doing a good job of keeping his cool, but a moment after his uncle started the reprimand, he stopped. Hannibal watched him pale, and realized his fists had been clenched and he had been snarling. He really was an animal. The wall of the garden was low, and he hopped it, needing to get some space between himself and the older man. 

Hannibal kept track of where he was going. This was part of his skill, the one that alerted him to danger, which always required him to know where he was, and where others were around him. He felt that sixth sense go off as he approached four young men. They surrounded him quickly, and even though it had only been a few days since he arrived, he understood enough to know that they were demanding his wallet. The one holding a bat came close, the weapon providing the young man an extra sense of security. Hannibal snatched it away, smashing the owner in the face before hitting the next assailant first in the chest, then once in the head. It was a hard tap, but not enough to leave him damaged him for life. Hannibal dropped the bat after that, needing only his hands to take down the two remaining men.

As he returned home late that night, Hannibal tried to be quiet, hoping that everyone would be asleep. His aunt had waited up for him though and she gasped when she saw him covered in blood. But her shock quickly wore off and she asked for his clothing. She got rid of them, and as far as he knew, never mentioned it to his uncle.

***

“She really was beautiful. You have your mother’s …” his aunt blushed and looked away, handing the photograph over.

It was slightly worn, obviously old. There was a happy couple in the picture. A small boy with light hair in the man’s arms. The woman’s arms were around her very pregnant stomach. He had nearly forgotten what they looked like. But to be fair, for a long time he hadn’t even known what he looked like. He could see what made his aunt turn away. He had his father’s features, and his mother’s eyes.

“Your mother always boasted about what a terrific big brother you were. I would joke that it was not something inherited from your father,” his uncle offered with a sad smile as he passed over a picture of Hannibal, maybe six, with a toddler in his arms. They both looked so happy. Hannibal thought it was his father who had taken the picture. He remembered the sound of his sister's laughter, her foot steps as she followed him around, how her hand felt in his. “She said Mischa’s first word was your name. It was Hannibal.”

It wasn’t. "‘Anniba." That was her first word.

It was also her last.

He remembered the men suddenly, remembered her being pulled away from him, and fighting with all that he had to reach her, until the moment the pain exploded and then nothing but darkness.

He bolted to the bathroom, and threw up the fancy food his uncle and aunt insisted on feeding him. After he had absolutely nothing left, he collapsed. The cool floor felt wonderful against his fevered skin. His aunt pulled his uncle away, giving Hannibal the silence he needed.

He wished Will had never given him that file. He could have been happy being One-Eye for the rest of his life. His lips formed his sister’s name but no words came out. He couldn’t even do that for her.

***

It took a few weeks for Will to be able to fall asleep without reaching over to the other side of the bed. Even nine months later, he was still waking up, expecting Hannibal to be there.

He went to work, lectured, and taught young minds how to catch killers. Jack called and he went, sharing his imagination with a man who had none of his own. He caught the killers, and spoke to Dr. Bloom every few weeks as was required, and then went home to spend time with his dogs.

One night he went to a bar, met a girl who wasn’t gorgeous but definitely pretty, in comfortable, loose clothing, funny and well educated. She said she loved dogs, the bigger the better, and would love to meet his pack. He had taken her home, and she had fawned over each one, speaking softly to them, and scratching their ears as she sat on the floor. She stayed the night, and made breakfast in the morning, chatting with him about dogs and current events.

In the end he didn’t ask for her number, and even though she looked like she wanted to, she didn’t offer it.

It was something he would never have done before, but before he had only known solitude, had been comfortable with it. Then came One-Eye, silent, brave, and with more inner strength than Will ever saw in anyone else. The girl’s company had been enjoyable, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

It lacked intensity. The hot, needy, almost animalistic passion that only the mute man could offer. He wanted to have his own language, and bring out the soft, deep chuckles in the man. He wanted broad hands holding his shoulders and thin lips brushing against chest, stealing his breath.

He wanted to fall asleep to the feeling of long fingers playing in his curls.

***

Sometimes Hannibal woke up to find his mouth bloody and his throat raw. He’d be covered in sweat, gulping in air as if it were something that had been denied him. The pictures had stirred up everything he had buried deep inside. In his dreams he could hear the men sing as they lead Mischa away, feel their fingers dig into his flesh as they pulled him back.

The house was big but Hannibal imagined that if he screamed, if he had made any sounds at all, his uncle, or more likely his aunt, would have woken him. The pain in his throat was new. It wasn't a place he had been hit often. But as with all pain, he grew used to its presence. He accepted it along with the coppery taste that accompanied it. He didn’t wash the taste away. He licked the blood off and remembered how it felt, how it tasted, when he ripped his opposition apart with his teeth. It was the only thing he missed about that life.

***

“Do you know what I think?” Beverly asked, as she set a new shot in front of Wll, who was still nursing his last one. 

Will glanced up at her, and frowned. He shouldn’t have let her talk him into this. He prefered to drink alone or with strangers. He liked Beverly and her team, but her tipsy attempts to cheer him up were closer to annoying than sweet. 

“I was thinking that your One-Eye-” 

“-Hannibal.” Will interrupted. “His name is Hannibal.” 

“Right, him,” She smiled and took a sip of her own drink. “You guys only had, like, a month together. Maybe it’s the idea of him that you like so much. I mean, Tarzan is dreamy on the big screen but he loses his charm after a few weeks.” 

Will raised a brow, mouth slightly open. 

“What? We weren’t suppose to notice how you looked at him?” 

“Are you trying to take my job?” Will managed to smile. 

She laughed and knocked the rest of her drink back. “Look, I just don’t like seeing you like this. It might have been sweet in the beginning but how long do you think you could take the silence for?” 

“You don’t understand,” Will shook his head, eyes on the glass as he turned it around. “There was never any silence.”

***

“You’re starting to remember,” Hannibal’s aunt said as she sat beside him. 

In his hand was a notebook, and on the paper was the monstrous face of one of the men that came to him in his nightmares, how he had appeared to look to Hannibal as a child. Hannibal glanced up at her and then back down. 

“You must find a way to let it go.” She laid a hand over his and smiled when he didn’t flinch away. “You have had so much anger in your life. You must not let this take away the rest of it.” 

Hannibal frowned, as he glanced up at her. 

He had been killing for close to two dozen years, but he was suppose to let the men that took his little sister away from him live to old age and die peacefully in their own beds? He had been too young to stop them before. Now he was a force of nature, deadly and unyielding. This time he was going to be the predator. Everything he went through was so that he could do this.

“You have the rest of your life ahead of you. How can someone love you if there is nothing inside of you to love?” 

Hannibal glanced back at the picture on his pad. Among the pictures of the monsters made into men, were drawings of Will. Brilliant, with eyes that saw so much, gentle but firm hands that always pulled him closer and a voice that cut through his anger every time. 

He had been introduced to men and women by his aunt and uncle but not one had been able to look at him for longer than strictly necessary. When they did, all Hannibal saw there was pity and sometimes fear. His face told a story of rough times and they did not know how one could escape it unharmed. 

And the truth was he hadn’t. 

But Will knew that. He hadn’t once pretended it was anything else. And Will had a smile that was just for him. Maybe a month wasn’t long enough to find out everything about Will’s life and habits but there was no one else Will smiled for quite like that. He didn’t know if that meant that he was loved, but it was more than he could ask for. It was more than enough for him. 

“Speak to me, Hannibal,” his aunt begged. 

Hannibal pulled his hand away from her. His aunt was a good woman who had done her best to understand and it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t. She might have been everything he needed when he was in the orphanage, tormented for his father’s name and beaten for not knowing his place but that was a lifetime ago. He didn’t just need someone to understand him. He needed someone to accept him.

He had no words, but if he did, they would be for the young agent who had never asked for them.

***

Time went on, and Hannibal found himself spending much of it in the kitchen. There was always business to be settled about the estate and title he inherited, as well as lessons on proper behavior among the civilized, but every chance he got, he snuck away to watch the cook. The chef let him prepare the meals alongside her, and once she found out how good he was with a blade, how steady his nerves were and how well he concentrated, the lessons progressed.

And all Hannibal could think about was all the dishes he could make for Will.

***.

Every few weeks Will got drunk, told himself all he needed was a plane ticket, but then lost the courage before he could complete the transaction online.

It had been one of those days when he had a hangover as a direct result of trying to fill himself with liquid courage that Will pulled up to his house next to a black, shiny, brand new Bentley. It was locked but empty. Footprints went up to his house but there was no sign of a break in. He could hear his dogs in the back of the house, and so he slowly made his way around.

There was a man, wearing a funny looking suit in different shades of paisley, kneeling by Winston, scratching his head,

In the sandy hair there was a black string that could only be for the purposes of an eye patch. Will put his gun away as the dogs swarmed him, causing the other man to turn slowly as if he had known Will was there all along.

Hair neatly combed back, in a three piece suit and a windsor knot, stood a man once known only as One-Eye, smiling at him.

“Well, don’t you look pretty?” Will couldn’t help but grin at the sight. The man should have looked ridiculous, but he didn’t. The colors complimented each other, and the outfit gave the taller man an air of royalty. He looked dignified, sophisticated, and the long scar on the left side of his face, along with the eye patch, were the only reminders that a year ago he was a chained man, forced to kill for the amusement of others.

Hannibal closed the difference between them with long strides and pulled Will into a kiss. It was needy, and hard, and full of passion: just what Will had been missing. It hadn’t been Hannibal's intention; he had been planning on making dinner, pouring Will some of the best wine France had to offer… but then Will smiled at him and Hannibal was pulled to him by a power greater than his own. 

Will pulled him close, fisting the material, letting him know just how much he had been missed.

Hannibal’s hands, as they often had in the few weeks they shared together, found their way into his hair. He found himself pushed against the backdoor of the house, his mouth explored as if for the first time.

“So…” Will smiled and licked his lips when the man pulled away, while trying to catch the breath that had been stolen from him. “They didn’t have a matching eye patch?”

There was a soft growl in the back of the other’s throat that did not fit in with the image of the man in such a fine suit, but to Will, it felt like coming home.

They stumbled into the house, and Will found out how frustrating the new amount of layers could be. His fingers almost shook as he undid the waistcoat, needing to feel the other’s skin against his, his weight holding him down.

Hannibal must have felt the same frustration because after the waistcoat fell away, he tore the pale blue shirt, sending buttons flying around the room, and causing Will to chuckle.

“It must pay well to be a Count,” Will told him before he was pushed back on to the bed, and his thighs were straddled. His own shirt was ripped open with a juvenile grin on the older man’s face. “Hey! I liked that one!”

He got another growl in response, but this time the man grinned down at him, looking quite pleased with himself. He covered Will’s chest with his own, and kissed Will, letting the younger taste his adoration for him.

“Please,” Will shuddered under him once his mouth was freed and his neck was given some needed attention. His fingers combed through Hannibal’s hair, running over the rubber string there and the man froze. Will pulled his face away from his neck, and forced the other to look at him. He pulled the eye patch off and let it fall beside the bed. He cupped the face and smiled, letting his thumb brush the skin under the missing eye. “You don’t ever have to hide from me. I can see you.”

For a moment the older man looked lost, but it was very brief, and suddenly Will was being kissed again. It was gentle, soft: as if they had all the time in the world.

*** 

“Hannibal, you need to wake up,” Will’s voice cut through the screams he had been hearing and his eyes flew open. “You’re all right. You’re here with me.” 

Hannibal took deep breaths, while the younger man kept whispering into his ear. It was sweet nonsense about being safe, but it was the voice and the fingers that brushed through his hair that soothed him, not the words. He was safe because he was awake, and while he was awake there was little that could hurt him. 

“You spoke. Mischa was your sister, right?” Will said softly once the breathing had evened out.

Hannibal rested his head against Will’s chest and laid a kiss over his heart. 

“You remember what happened to her,” Will whispered, slightly unnerved by the tremor he felt in the flesh under his hand. He would have done anything at that moment to make sure the nightmare never returned. He would have found the source of the horror filled visions and erased them along with any chance to hear that sweet voice, again. Not if it was twisted with terror the way it had been. “Do you remember who did it?” 

There was a pause, and then Hannibal let out a slow breath. He laid on his back and pulled Will close, his hand covered the agent’s eyes. Will sighed and obediently closed them. 

“I would love to hear you speak but I don’t care if you never say one word,” Will told him softly. “You don’t have to, but you do have to remember that I’m with you. I’ll be with you until the moment you want it to stop, but until then, I’m yours.” 

Hannibal’s arms tightened around him and he buried his face in the curls. He could read between the lines just as well as Will could hear his words. Will was promising to help him, to take away the nightmares. 

It had been his intention to hunt down the men and having Will at his side should have thrilled him but it didn’t. 

Will’s mind absorbed everything around him, and Hannibal didn’t want to add to the horrors that he must have seen. He didn’t want to add to the nightmares that already plagued him. There must have been plenty after he left, if even half of the cases Ms. Lounds wrote about were true, and he refused to be the source of any more. 

Mischa was dead and Will was there in his arms and willing to give up his humanity for him. 

Maybe he could try letting his sister stay in the past along with the guilt he felt over her death.

He didn’t know if it would work but he could try for the man who lay on his chest, finger drawing pagan symbols on his his stomach. The same ones Aaron had drawn on him and he in return tried to draw on the agent the night before his last fight. They weren’t meant to be protection from nightmares, but the fact that Will kept drawing them was a small, loving, gesture that meant he wanted to protect Hannibal. In return, Hannibal would do his best to protect him.

Hannibal tapped his chest with one finger, and Will tilted his head up to look at him. 

“Yeah, I love you too.”  
Hannibal ran his palm over the rough, bearded cheek and smiled. To hear those words again, there was very little he wouldn’t try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I watched Hannibal Rising again and couldn't help it.... and for getting a bit heavy handed with the whole silence thing. 
> 
> Thanks for all your support guys. You're all wonderful. Somebody even promised me a cow... I hope it's a little one. They're tasty. 
> 
> Hannigram 4ever!

**Author's Note:**

> So much less banter than I'm used to.


End file.
